


20. Punch-drunk love

by tveckling



Series: Chris and Leon's sappy romance [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Resident Evil: Vendetta, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 09:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19293067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: The thing that hits him the first moment Leon comes to is thathe doesn't recognize this bed. This isn't the bed in his small apartment; there's a feeling almost like fear as he strains his hearing. Nothing but silence, peace, meets him, so he cautiously opens his eyes.





	20. Punch-drunk love

The thing that hits him the first moment Leon comes to is that _he doesn't recognize this bed_. This isn't the bed in his small apartment; there's a feeling almost like fear as he strains his hearing. Nothing but silence, peace, meets him, so he cautiously opens his eyes.

White, unremarkable ceiling, with a single lamp hanging darkened. Soft light breaking through the gaps in the blinds. Beige wall with a landscape painting. A small bed table with an even smaller lamp and nothing else.

He recognizes it as a regular hotel room at the same time he realizes he's not alone in the bed.

Automatically he searches for any weapons, but the only thing even possibly usable would be the table lamp. But it's fine - he's well-versed in unarmed combat. Should push come to shove he should be able to neutralize whoever he finds.

Making his movements as slow and unnoticeable as possible he turns and finds-

Chris Redfield.

Asleep, his face turned towards Leon, soft breaths coming through a small gap between his lips. The blanket lies messily pooled around his waist, showing off his bare chest. Showing that he's not wearing anything, at all. Showing off multiple hickeys and marks that look suspiciously like they were made by nails.

Abruptly Leon is alarmingly aware of his own nudity, and he sits up with a jerking motion. At the last moment he stops himself from jumping out of bed entirely as he feels a mild, though very telltale ache from his nether regions at his sudden movements. With his breath stuck in his throat he glances down at his own body and isn't surprised to see quite a few obvious hickeys.

_What the hell did he do?_

Deciding he doesn't care about his bed mate Leon falls back down on the bed with a groan, rubbing his face. Remember, he needs to remember. He was at that bar, drinking blithely, ignoring all attempts of people trying to chat with him. No matter where he goes there are always such people, and he wishes they could just let him drink in peace.

Then there was Redfield, yes, he remembers. Remembers arguing, remembers storming out, remembers the argument continuing through the streets. Redfield really should learn how to keep his nose out of Leon's business already. How much he drinks, how often he drinks, all of that is _his_ business, and his alone.

He remembers the argument turning physical, and he remembers slamming Redfield against a wall, and he remembers-

_Oh, God._

He remembers leaning forward and pressing his lips against Redfield's. He remembers Redfield pulling him close, instead of pushing him away _like he should have done_ , God. He remembers barely keeping his hands off of the other man as they stumble into a hotel. Redfield's hotel, where he was renting a room.

Christ, he must have been much drunker than he'd thought. He didn't think he was drunk at all, had barely had time to get a buzz going. But he had to have been, why else would he- how else could he just- he must have been.

Leon groans again, and rubs his face even harder, wishing he could just sink down into the mattress and disappear. What the hell. What the _hell_. What had he been _thinking_?

But it'd been nice, a voice whispers. Redfield was a damn good lover, more so than Leon had been expecting. Far more caring than he'd thought was possible. Remembering the way he'd stared when Leon rode him at one point makes Leon's face burn. He remembers the feel of warm skin beneath his hands, remembers Redfield's voice whispering nonsense into the crook of his neck as they moved together, as Leon held onto him as tight as he could while Redfield took him over the edge.

"Come on, it's early. No need to get up yet."

The sleepy voice is barely more than a murmur, but Leon hears it all too clearly, and he freezes like a deer caught in headlights. Next he hears a sigh, and rustling, before a warm hand lies across his chest. Not doing anything, just… resting.

"Come back here?"

As though moved by a force outside his own body Leon turns his head to find a pair of eyes peering at him, and the affection flowing through the smile that forms makes him lose his breath.

He doesn't know what comes over him, what makes him move, but before he knows it he's rolling over and curling up next to Redfield, pushing his head against the broader chest. He feels the arm pull him even closer, Redfield shifting slightly, and then there's a puff of breath against the top of Leon's head. The satisfaction practically pours from it.

Leon stares into the skin of the chest next to his face, watches as it rises and falls. He both feels and hears how Redfield's breath evens out again as he slips back into sleep. His arm is warm where it lies across Leon's back.

Maybe it's time to start referring to him as Chris, instead of his surname. Leon feels the strangely comfortable feeling settle, and he sighs one last time. There's still a part of him that's screaming to move away and get out, attachments are dangerous, attachments are _not for him_ , but it's so very distant. Whatever happened, whatever happens next, he can deal with it later. He closes his eyes and feels warm.


End file.
